Society of Sparks
by Molten-Ashes
Summary: We have no form, therefore we fear it. And because we are formless, we revere it. Thus we are slain...    Bayverse Transformers/Bleach Xover. Collab fic with Star Fata.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: We don't own Transformers or Bleach!

Please R&R

(The first Chapter of a Collab fic with the brilliant Star Fata who put up with my nagging for months to combine Transformers with Bleach, with lots of plot changes!. Star Fata looked this over for me (So my grammer won't be as rubbish as usual), tweaked bits and pieces and she is going to write the next chapter. We hope you enjoy it!)

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><p><em>We have no form, therefore we fear it, <em>

_And because we are formless, we revere it, _

_Thus we are slain. _

_**~Bleach **_

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><p>The dark Cybertronian was cool and calm, the acid storm clouds gathered clustering above the spires of Polyhex were ready to drop their acid onto the old withstanding city below. A cumulus cloud suddenly bulged, the wisps of cloud clinging to the form that burst through to land heavily upon the ground beside a trickling energon stream.<p>

It was a monster. Huge and lumbering, with weapons for arms, its optics were as red and hard as rubies. It threw back its helm and roared to the sky, its screaming cry echoing around the outskirts of the city.

A Spark, innocent, freshly deactivated huddled close to the bridge, terrified as the behemoth creature began sampling the air. The spirit tried to hide as red optics zoomed in on him, screaming as it fled into the nearby city.

A mech stood above the city balancing precariously on the tipped spire of the tallest building, the wind whistling past his doorwinged form, a lancing beam of light from one of Cybertron's two moons piercing the cloud bank to illuminate the black and white paint chest plates tinted with a splash of red detailed with glittering gold, the paint glossy and new decorating his frame. A sword was strapped to his back, long, lethal and graceful; a simple crystal tassle chiming in the breeze. His golden optics narrowed, tilting a ruby chevroned helm in the direction of a ferocious roar in the distance.

"It's close."

The mech moved, raising a pede slightly as he bent his knee joint, then, with an effortless push, the doorwinged mech rocketed off into the night, landing on a lower spire before jumping into the open space over a park, unbound by the laws of physics…

_**===Cybertron= Polyhex= Special Operations Bar===**_

_**==Jazz==**_

For as long as I can remember, I have been able to see the Sparks of the dearly departed. The lingering souls of murdered mechs, femmes and younglings watching over the living they have left behind. I seem to be unique with this power to see the deactivated and to be honest, it _frightens_ me. I have taken on the role as a guardian to the memorials on the busy, careless streets of my home city, threatening the punks who dare desecrate the remembrance of the deactivated, that is, if the punks don't get me first…

"Jazz! Cybertron to Jazz!" a cheerful voice called startling the silver mech from his thoughts as he cleaned the table before him. "Stop daydreaming! The boss is wandering around!"

"Huh? Sorry Bluestreak." The lithe mech called over to the grey plated, doorwinged mech that was currently mopping the floors, the Praxian having come over from Praxus after a transport accident had wiped out his creators. "I'm just tired."

"You've been tired for nearly a Vorn Jazz." the younger mech said kindly, his ruby chevron glinting under the multicoloured lighting of the currently closed club. "Something wrong at home?"

"Nah, it's fine." Jazz smiled warmly going back to making sure the last table was clear of energon stains from the lively shift they had been working, before dumping the cleaning sheet back into the bucket of solvent "Well, that's me done Blue. I'll see you next shift."

"Bye Jazz," the innocent and often ditzy mech called in return stopping his scrubbing of a particularly hard stain to wave after the smaller silver mech. "Say hi to your brothers for me!"

Jazz made an acknowledging tone in his vocaliser, dumping the bucket beside the bar on his way out, giving a salute to his strict looking boss that lurked near the ornate doors as he left the popular club.

The glowing name of the bar above the door he left out of fizzed and hissed before dying into an unsightly grey, the gathering place of the local high grade addicts officially closed for the night cycle.

The Special Operations Club was in the posh end of Polyhex, a medium sized city that had residents ranging from insanely wealthy to homeless and living on the sidewalks, the only differences to other cities was that Polyhex was practically run by the mob.

As one of the poorer bots, Jazz lived down town, in the shadier areas where having combat training programmes and at least one weapon was needed on your frame to get through a cycle without getting mugged. Having been fortunate to be sparked into one of the slightly less unfortunate families in the area, Jazz had been given inbuilt weaponry in his arm, a powerful EMP cannon that could render any mech unconscious with one accurate shot. And Jazz was _very _accurate.

The grand buildings of the nobles of Polyhex that surrounded him gradually fell into smog covered flats with pitiful broken windows as he walked, not in any hurry to rush home to the predicted calamity that was his flat. He wearily checked over his shoulder as he heard the moaning wail of an enforcer's siren in the distance. Jazz sighed as he reached his block of flats looking up into the stormy skies that the slum reached towards, he swiped his admittance card; the door sliding open with a sulky beep as the first drops of acid rain began to fall.

He climbed the stairs to the fourth floor, nodding to the drunken squatter that had sneaked in one day and was camping on the stairs. He continued on up the gloomy staircase only pausing to acknowledge some of his neighbours as they nosily stuck their helms out their doors, keen for gossip or chatter.

Finally he reached the top floor, the most spacious apartments spread over the huge floor and divided into three large 'penthouses', the neighbour next door was an old mech by the name of Kup, a grizzled old army general that had seen Cybertron through its Great War nearly a life time ago, though nowadays he usually kept to himself, grumbling about civil unrest. The third apartment lay empty, never claimed and reported to be the scene of a murder. Or possibly a storehouse for some kind of illegal merchandise, depending on who you listened to.

Sub-spacing his key card he swiped the door lock, the door hissing open with a dull squeak as rusty mechanisims shuffled to fulfil their task.

"Evening Jazz! Energon is in the storage!" His youngest brother called with a cheeky grin from where he was standing in the kitchen stirring some energon goodie mix in a bowl, his cassettes, Rewind and Eject bouncing excitedly beside him along with their cousins, Frenzy and Rumble the four mini-mechs trying to reach into the bowl to steal some mix as Jazz's youngest brother, Blaster fended them off with his spoon. "How was work? Rewind, so help me, if you try and stick your face in this I WILL use my spoon!"

"It was fine Blaster." Jazz groaned flopping onto the couch after he had retrieved his ration of energon, where his middle brother was slouched reading a music pad, his servo absentmindedly scratching a black four legged cassette's back. "Hi Soundwave."

"Jazz: Tired?" The second eldest asked his ruby visor barely looking up from his reading, his eldest cassette purring happily under his servo.

"You have no idea, I swear Springer likes to run us into the ground. AND some cheesy drunk bot decided to chat me up!" Jazz ranted to his quiet brother as the news rippled across the small Holo-screen, pausing as a part of town he recognised flickered onto the screen. The reporter explaining an explosion that had gone off in the early afternoon, building's faces torn open, with windows and roads smashed up.

"That's not far from here" Blaster commented in concern shaking his helm as he poured his mix into small moulds, before chucking the bowl at the squabbling cassettes he and Soundwave had both raised.

"Jazz: Another Spark" Soundwave suddenly noted, a silver/blue ball flickering into view at his eldest brother's shoulder.

"Another Spark?" Blaster whined as Jazz made an annoyed swiping motion at the deactivated mech that had appeared "It must be so exciting to see them." he sighed wistfully leaning on the counter of the small kitchenette "I can only see vague shapes."

"Sparks: Are Not Real." Soundwave said blandly in his usual monotone.

"But Soundwave!" Blaster protested "You can see them really clearly"

"Soundwave: Denial." the dark blue DJ droned as the spark that was harassing Jazz hung before the two eldest brothers looking horrified.

"I'm going for a walk" Jazz growled swatting at the bothersome mech that was attempting to get his attention.

"Poor Jazz." Blaster sighed as the silver mech left the main room with a growl. "He says he's been seeing lots more Sparks lately, I think that's why he's become so tired."

_**==Polyhex= Shopping District==**_

He had been too late to save the Spark, the ghostly energon splattered across the walkway, along with the wreckage of a building. The black and white mech sighed crouching to touch the softly glowing liquid that was quickly drying into the metal.

It was cold, and still slightly wet, the Spark had been eaten only recently, twenty breems at most.

A thunderous roar had his helm snapping up, amber optics narrowing suspiciously. He leapt into a sprint, the crystal tassel on the end of his sword jangling as he followed the trail of destruction.

_**===Jazz=== **_

The monster had been moaning, wailing in the middle of a dark alley, sobbing and shrieking as Jazz walked past, sulking about what a curse his ability to see the deactivated was.

He paused, peering into the gloom, turning on the night vision setting on his visor and stumbling back in horror as a giant War Class mech stumbled into the moon brightened street, the clouds dispersing as if tugged on invisible strings.

"I smell a tasty Spark." it growled lustfully, venting harshly, its lip plates smeared with energon.

To shocked to scream for help; even before he realised the creature was of the spirit realm, the silver mech backed away with his servos held before him, his sensitive helm horns turned on their highest to catch any malicious movement.

The tingling of a chime rang out through the empty space.

"Rise and freeze all those before you,

Reitō Sukaidoragon!"

The atmosphere chilled, a bellowing cry like an eagle rippled through the sky, a dragon, long and emitting frozen energon crystals soared over him wrapping around the monster as it attempted to spear Jazz with his giant talons that had replaced his cannon. The dragon made of living energon squeezed, it's Turbo-fox like ears flaring and extending into wings like an angel of Primus, cocooning the monster in frozen energon, solidifying the creature within.

Jazz shook in terror as a black and white mech appeared out of the haze that the dragon had thrown up, a sword dangling from his grip as the doorwinged mech strode past him to frown at the frozen demon mech in the crystal. "Get out of here, mortal." The deep baritone voice said, shortly. "This is no battle for your kind."

The cocoon cracked ominously as Jazz cried out, a taloned hand finishing its dive for his silver chest plates. The talons never pierced his armour.

When Jazz onlined his optics behind his visor he stared in shock. The talons of the creature, were sheathed in the vital shoulder circuitry of the mysterious Praxian framed mech, rivulets of blue energon flowing freely like miniature rivers to flood the ground.

"Unhand me Decepticon Scum" the golden opticked mech hissed slashing the thin blade across the back of the malicious spirit's wrist drawing forth a scream from the energon cocoon, claws retracting from the shoulder plating.

The unknown mech stumbled away, energon dripping from the corner of his mouth, to finally collapse under the light of a lamppost, a halo of faux light around his saviour as the prison of the Decepticon began to shatter and give.

"Get up!" Jazz cried to the mech that was slouched upon the metal, scrambling over to the lamppost. "It's breaking out!"

The mech gave him a golden glare, servo pressed to the gaping hole in his shoulder. "Do you want to… save your building?" the mysterious doorwinger croaked shifting his long ornate sword to point directly at Jazz's spark chamber beneath his silver chest plates. "Do you… want to… save your family?"

"More than anything." Jazz said seriously, wary of the point of the sword.

"Then take my sword and ram it through your core" the mech coughed the sword vibrating with the shudders the pain was causing his rescuer. "I'll transfer my powers to you."

"Then give me that blade, Spark." Jazz said gripping the upper half of the blade and aiming it for the seam of his chest plates.

"I'm no spark." The mech smiled thinly "My name is Prowl, I'm a Spark Reaper."

"Very well, mech" Jazz grinned as the monstrous Decepticon broke free of his prison thundering towards them with a shrieking roar. "My name… is Jazz"

The blade pierced the silver mech's spark, the dark night world erupting in white powerful light.

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><p>AN: 'Reitō Sukaidoragon' translates from Japanese to 'Frozen Sky Dragon' in English.


	2. Chapter 2

_AN- Star Fata here, sorry for the late update, there were computer problems. Namely, there is **only** one computer in my house. And it refused to save my edits for some reason, so when I eventually realised this, I ended up waiting until such a time._

_Thanks to SongStream for your corrections with regards to Molten-Ashes' shoddy translations from English to Japanese. Hence Prowl's sword is now called 'Toukuuryuu'._

_Disclaimer: We own neither Bleach nor Transformers. We do, however, own a lot of Bleach and Transformers merchandise. Books, DVD's, toys, that kind of thing. _

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><p>"<em>Then take my sword and ram it through your core" the mech coughed the sword vibrating with the shudders the pain was causing his rescuer. "I'll transfer my powers to you." <em>

"_Then give me that blade, Spark." Jazz said gripping the upper half of the blade and aiming it for the seam of his chest plates. _

"_I'm no spark." The mech smiled thinly "My name is Prowl, I'm a Spark Reaper." _

"_Very well, mech" Jazz grinned as the monstrous Decepticon broke free of his prison thundering towards them with a shrieking roar. "My name… is Jazz" _

_The blade pierced the silver mech's spark, the dark night world erupting in white powerful light. _

People have hope

Because they can't see death

Standing behind them.

Prowl slumped against the lamppost as the light faded his doorwings folded, exhausted against his back strut. Standing before him, radiating power like a nuclear reactor, was the silver mech called Jazz, ready to eliminate the Decepticon that had threatened his family and the surrounding buildings.

If he hadn't been so terrified, he would have been somewhat awed. As it was, he could sense the power of an ice storm inside of him fading into the clinging chill of half melted ice.

'Toukuuryuu!' He screamed internally, his optics still focused on Jazz. He couldn't hear the answer, but a reassuring flicker of icy winds in his spark calmed him. Toukuuryuu wasn't lost to him. They could recover from this…

'But how did this happen?' Prowl's logic centre kicked in with a vengeance. He'd only meant to give Jazz a small portion of his energies, just enough to be rid of the Decepticon before them, yet he'd been left with almost nothing.

Snapping out of his contemplation, he allowed himself to analyse the battle in front of his optics.

Jazz stood there, barely noticing the corona of pure energy surrounding him. He held his long shining black weapon out and smirked at the Decepticon, who only laughed, barely pausing in its charge, lethal sharp claws outstretched to swipe at the much smaller mech.

"One pathetic spark reaper is the same as another pathetic spark reaper." It sneered. "After I'm done with you, I'll kill the rest!"

Jazz tilted his head, the smirk still on his face plates, curved helm fins glinting in the moonlight and _moved_. The Decepticon shrieked in pain as he appeared on the other side of the monster, its arm split neatly in half, blackened ghostly energon pouring forth like a dam that had burst. The demon soul roared, throwing its head back like a turbo wolf howling at the moon, its remaining hand reaching to clutch the stump.

"You were saying?" Jazz grinned, his smile almost feral.

The Decepticon's optics narrowed, ruby pin pricks in the shadows of the night as it charged a final time, heavy pede steps tearing the road, claws on its remaining hand extended to maim and destroy. "I'll eat your spark chamber Soul Reaper." it howled as Jazz lunged to greet the behemoth.

"You'll never get the chance." Jazz said, almost calmly, landing in a crouch, his sword leaning on his shoulder as the shocked war-class dissolved into spark particles. The titan's faceplate split cleanly in half, the only hint that it had been there at all was the small splashes of foul black ghost energon.

It had barely disintegrated when Jazz's weapon vanished, the long, ornate katana flickering out of existence as the smaller silver mech collapsing with a groan, apparently a mortal mech once more.

Prowl stared in confusion, a little out of his depth, his powers drained and barely recognisable even to his own powerful senses. What was he supposed to do now? He stared at Jazz's fallen form, his faceplate twisting into a troubled frown as his injury throbbed.

As he was trying to work out how to resolve this new dilemma, he heard pede steps approaching, and saw blue flashes out of the corner of his vision. Turning, he could see only silhouettes. His audio receptors could pick up a faint humming.

"Well, what do we have here?" The newcomer asked, cheerily. "Something exploded and it wasn't my fault? My, my, it seems somebot is trying to outdo me."

Prowl was almost completely certain there was no way his spark chamber could rattle in fear. It was just an expression.

====Morning====

Jazz onlined to the sound of his brother's voice.

"Jazz, wake up already!" Blaster shouted banging his fist on his elder brother's door.

Jazz made a small sound in his vocalizer, sitting up on his berth. '_Was it all a dream_?'

A sudden weight on his helm made him cry out. Reaching up a servo, he pulled off one of the more annoying cassettes that his brother's had raised. "Rumble, we've talked about this."

Rumble smirked at him- the brat- and squirmed off to the safety of his creator, zipping out the door before he could throw the pest out himself. Soundwave looked at Jazz, a glint of amusement in his optics as his brother emerged, groggy and cranky from his room.

"Jazz: Awake. Building Status: Vandalised." Soundwave stated, leaving to find his wayward cassette.

"Vandalised?" Jazz said, half to himself. He decided to head to the kitchen unit for energon before going to see the damage. There was no hurry; Soundwave would have said if there was. Or gotten Blaster to do so, he could be surprisingly lazy at times.

As he walked out of the building, still drinking his morning cube, his circuits froze in his frame. There were the marks of talons on the sidewalk, concrete dust across the scene, and rubble scattered over the area.

Turning, he could see the façade of the building had been blasted to shreds, burn marks that no ordinary cybertronian could have made scarring the face of the apartments.

"Pretty awful, huh?" Blaster said, quiet as he never was. "And we never heard a thing."

Jazz looked at his brother. "What happened here?"

Blaster looked at the rubble, where their neighbours and assorted cassettes were moving rubble around. "Maybe a political protest got out of hand again. I've heard they can get pretty violent."

Soundwave made a sound of agreement. "Also possible: Gang warfare." He suggested, before going to help his cassettes.

Jazz could only frown, a strange expression on his faceplates. A political protest would have been broadcast far and wide, and the protestor's wouldn't be caught dead somewhere as unimportant as the backstreets of Polyhex. There weren't enough bigwigs around to protest against.

As for Soundwave's gang warfare theory, it was true that it wasn't unheard of in their area. However, their close proximity to the enforcer's station meant that it was usually low key, and far away, and if it wasn't, the enforcers were on the scene within minutes to make the appropriate arrests. There was a distinct lack of crime scene tape, which ruled out that theory pretty soundly.

Besides, political protestors and gangs, no matter how well-armed, couldn't have caused that particular blast mark. Only a war-class mech was armed with that kind of heavy weaponry, and both Soundwave and Blaster knew well enough to know better.

So why were they speaking as if they didn't? Jazz sighed. And here he thought last night had been weird. Steeling himself for more… _weirdness_, he stuck in with the clean-up effort. If he was lucky, they'd be finished before he had to go to work.

He wasn't. In fact, he barely had time to brush the dust off of his frame before racing to the Special Operations bar. His luck seemed to be in short supply lately.

"Hey Jazz! We got a new guy!" Bluestreak called over, the moment he slid through the door, the younger mech standing beside the bar with the two bartenders, a set of temperamental twins named Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, both giving a simple grunt of greeting as they set up for the shift.

"New guy, huh?" Jazz mused. "Didn't know we were hiring."

"Neither did I." Bluestreak chirped. "He's like me except older and he doesn't talk much, but he said he doesn't mind that I do, which is great because just about everyone else does. Not that I'm saying _you_ mind Jazz," He added, afraid he'd offended Jazz.

Jazz interrupted the deluge. "Sounds cool. Where is this guy?"

Bluestreak gestured towards the back room, but it was unnecessary, due to the vaguely familiar doorwinged form stepping out.

'_What the hell?_' Jazz thought incredulously his optics widening behind his visor in alarm, freezing where he stood. It was the Spark Reaper from the battle… Prowl.


End file.
